I told all this to Stepan Trofimovitch; he paid no attention, except to the news about the Lebyadkins.
And now, having described our enigmatic position throughout those eight days during which we knew nothing, I will pass on to the description of the succeeding incidents of my chronicle, writing, so to say, with full knowledge, and describing things as they became known afterwards, and are clearly seen to-day.

I will begin with the eighth day after that Sunday, that is, the Monday evening--for in reality a "new scandal" began with that evening.
III It was seven o'clock in the evening.

Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch was sitting alone in his study--the room he had been fond of in old days.

It was lofty, carpeted with rugs, and contained somewhat heavy old-fashioned furniture.

He was sitting on the sofa in the corner, dressed as though to go out, though he did not seem to be intending to do so.